I'll probably get away with most of what I've done. I'm talking about those little
slips of integrity and judgment that eat away at your moral fiber and cost you your true peace of mind.
But who wants peace of mind when they can have the satisfaction of knowing
that no one will ever know what they've done? No one apparently.
Do you want to enjoy the social acceptance and community leverage that is
part and parcel of being in sync with your neighbors and co-workers and the
general populace at large in your metropolitan locale? Me too. That's why I am
really upset about what I heard is coming to a town near you. I'm taking about
God's latest joke on mankind.
Now it's only in the rumor stage, you understand. I learned about it from a
reasonably reliable source. A mushroom eating recluse from the upper reaches
of the old Madrone Canyon out in the quiet little hamlet of Larkspur in California.
We were talking on the net two nights ago. What he revealed to me makes
perfectly good sense, especially if God wants to make a point about truth and
acceptance.
According to my friend, there have been isolated incidents of a persons
thoughts being played on the wall next to them just like a movie. He related a
number of accounts which I will share with you. They are chilling in nature and I
shall presume, if we find these accounts to be veritable, that the consensus is
that we as a society of white liars and keepers of secrets "for their own
good"....are in for a new school of thought regarding this aspect of our
demeanor. Better worded, we are screwed.
Account Number One:
In the City of San Jose, California a man was sitting on his couch watching a
crime drama on the television. His wife of thirteen years sat across from him
reading a "projected figures" report for a presentation she was to be part of at her
place of work the next day. According to the mans wife "His eyes left the
television screen and he assumed a sort of thoughtful posture. You could tell
something was on his mind. I almost asked him, when the next thing I knew a
movie started to play on the wall behind him. At first I thought someone was
shining a projector in our living room window, but I realized that the wall behind
my husband wasn't accessible from any of the windows in the room. Then I new
something was up when I saw that the movie on the wall had my husband in it. It
was like he had a projector playing out the back of his head and his thoughts
were playing on the wall. I could see he was in bed with a woman and the
woman wasn't me. I looked closer and it was the principle character from the
show he was watching. He was thinking about having sex with her and it was
playing out in color on the wall behind his head. I watched another few minutes
and it was starting to hurt because he looked so happy. He hadn't looked that
happy since he finished restoring this old motorcycle he keeps in the garage.
I couldn't take it any more so I said something to him, I said 'Frank, snap out of
it!' Something like that. He looked at me and the screen changed to me. I could
see myself sitting across from him just like a mirror. I mean I even moved my
hand and touched my face to see what happened. And it was just as I thought,
the image of me on the screen touched her face. Then the image of me suddenly
was undressed and I'm not really ready to talk about what was on the screen
next. I will say this..it's something he loves and I'm not so crazy about. I spoke
to him again. 'Frank' I said. 'What the hell are you thinking about?' I wanted to
see if he would be honest. Without skipping a beat he said 'I was wondering if
you wanted some ice cream?' The lying fuck got up smiling and looked at me
with all the sincerity of an angel and asked me if he could fix me a bowl of
ice cream.
Yes. I shot him. And you know what? I'm sitting here in the County Lock up
facing an aggravated assault charge that might change over to homicide if that
lying piece of shit dies. And all the while he's over in Mercy North, in a coma,
dreaming that he's screwing Jill Hennessy six ways from Sunday. I hope he
does die. I'll take the rap for it. 'Ice cream he tell me. With the sweetest little
boy smile he can muster he tells me he's thinking about ice cream."
The above account was provided by a person operating withing the Bay Area
jurisprudence system. An un-nameable "inside" source known only as "the
farmer".
My friend in the Madrone Canyon made me aware that "strict confidentiality"
needed to be maintained and therefore he could not name the source of the
account.
Account Number Two:
In the city of Boise, Idaho a woman was in the ladies room of a nightclub.
She and two of her friends had excused themselves from the table where they'd
been sitting with their dates. For this account we will refer to her as "Jane"
Once in the ladies room the three friends began a breezy chatter about the
evening and their dates and other related subjects. One of "Jane's" friends
opened her purse and began to freshen her lipstick. She mentioned that she
liked her new purse but still missed all the sentimental items that were in the
'one that was stolen at Moira's wedding reception.' Just as before, in the
account of the couple in San Jose, California, a screen opened up on the wall
behind "Jane's" head. The two women with her, long time friend's of Jane's, both
recognized the scene playing out behind Jane. It was a particular community
center in Boise. The scene was the wedding reception the one woman spoke of
moments ago.
In the scene Jane was alone in the coat check room. She appeared to
be looking left and right as though she wanted to be sure she was alone. She
bent down and pulled something out from under a coat. It was the purse the
other woman in the room with her had been speaking of only moments ago.
Later the two women with Jane both gave an account of how up on the screen
Jane very clearly emptied the contents of her friend's purse into her own, and
then stuffed the purloined handbag into a plastic garbage bag and tossed it in
a trash receptacle on her way back to the reception. When asked by her friends
what she was "thinking about just now." Jane was reported to have
cheerfully suggested that she was thinking they should all go have a ladies night
out some time soon, and go get some ice cream.
It is at this point that my Madrone Canyon friend stopped the second account.
He made me aware that the club security was alerted to a very nasty fight in the
rear of the club near the women's lounge. Again he cites "inside" accounts from
friends of friends in the law enforcement profession in and around Boise.
I have one more account to tell you. It is by far the more serious and the
most believable. I would advise all who read this account to be mindful of the
implication of a screen opening up on the wall behind you. A screen that shows
in intimate and HIGH DEFINITION detail, the precise thoughts and ideas that are
on your mind. You, the thief and you the cheat, I among you from time to time
must admit that such a prospect chills me. Were such a screen behind me the
day I was asked by my mother if I had any idea what she'd done with the
money she'd set out for the paperboy, she might not have been so hard on
certain older members of my family later that day. I confess I was tempted and
succumbed to that temptation. I pocketed that dollar and a quarter.
Before I relate to you all the events of the final account. I am want to
stretch. Let us all break and rise from our chairs. I believe a coffee refill is in
order, or better yet....ice cream. Let's all have some ice cream.
Roger Wild February 18Th. 2007
This work is dedicated to anyone who would have to move out of their home, or perhaps country. If events such as the ones depicted above were to actually begin to manifest. God love you I would be on that train next to you. Chocolate or Vanilla?
